


The Wacky-Tacky House of Bounce

by DoubleApple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Party, Fluff, Harry Potter's Birthday, Kissing, M/M, Sweet, The fluffiest fluff, literal bouncing, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleApple/pseuds/DoubleApple
Summary: It's Harry's 25th birthday, and Draco and Ron worked together (er... sort of) to throw him the bounciest party in the history of bouncy parties.





	The Wacky-Tacky House of Bounce

**Author's Note:**

> Emansil, thank you for organizing the party_4_potter fest, and thank you for this fun prompt! As soon as I saw it, I knew just what kind of birthday party Harry needed.
> 
> Except for the drinking and cursing, this is practically G-rated - and sweet enough to rot your teeth, so be warned. :) 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

As soon as Draco arrived at Harry’s party, he knew it was going to be rubbish.

Picking the venue had been Weasley’s job. The Portkey that Ron had given Draco — a long green balloon twisted into the shape of a dragon, already a bad sign — brought him to the far corner of a suburban parking lot, behind a large dumpster. He stumbled over a bit of broken pavement and nearly dropped his satchel, and he cursed under his breath. What had Weasley done? 

Draco peered around the corner of the huge bin and sauntered out discreetly. He looked across the lot in despair, as droves of Muggle children and their harried parents headed toward a huge refurbished warehouse sporting an alarming sign, lit up garishly in neon hot pink and turquoise and acid green, even though it was the middle of the day.

The Wacky-Tacky House of Bounce.

“Fucking hell, Weasley. You had one job,” Draco muttered as he stepped around a couple of tow-headed rugrats climbing out of a minivan, squabbling and shouting. This did not bode well.

Inside, the noise level was already indescribable, shouts and screams and shrieks of laughter reverberating from the high ceilings. Draco looked around, shifting his satchel higher on his shoulder, and caught a flash of ginger off in the corner.

“Weasley!” he called, and stalked over to where Ron was standing on a balcony next to a set of stairs, surveying a scene of complete madness below. Children were everywhere — throwing themselves about on padded mats, jumping into a massive ball pit, hoisting themselves up cushioned rock walls.

Draco just stared, aware that his mouth was hanging open but unable to do anything about it.

“Catching flies, Malfoy?” Ron asked with a bit too much glee in his voice. “It’s brilliant, yeah?”

Draco leveled his best furious stare at Ron. “Brill... no. I would not say this is brilliant.”

“Well, it’s good thing this party’s not for _you_ , then, isn’t it?” Ron asked, just a touch maliciously. Draco and Harry had been together for three years, long enough for Ron to come around, but tweaking Draco was still one of his favorite hobbies. “I thought this would be perfect, after we talked about how Harry’d missed out on birthday parties when he was a kid.”

“I said child- _like_ , not child- _ish_ , Weasley! I meant something that captures the joy and wonder of childhood. The essence of innocent fun,” Draco spat out. “Not something that is literally for children.”

Ron shrugged, that infuriating grin still on his infuriating face. “He’s gonna like it, you pointy git. No — he’s gonna _love_ it. You’ll see.”

"How did you even book this place, Weasley?" Draco asked. "Are adults even allowed to be in here?"

"Dunno. I didn't exactly tell them how old Harry was, I guess? Or use his real name when I made the reservation. Or my real name. I put it under 'Hedwig McScabbers.'" Ron smiled at his own joke. When Draco didn't smile back, he said, "Come off it, Malfoy, who shoved a wand up your arse? No one's paying attention. Nobody even seems to work here."

Draco scowled and Ron ignored him, asking, "Hey, what's in your _purse_?"

“It’s not a purse, Weasley,” Malfoy argued automatically. “It’s a satchel. A very manly satchel, at that.”

Ron laughed, then; he couldn’t help it. “So sorry, forgive me. What’s in your manly satchel?” Draco reluctantly held it open to show him the party favors inside. Thank Merlin that at least he’d been the one to bring them: silly hats and blowers, but also monogrammed flasks for each guest, shrunk down and charmed to hold just the right quantity of the liquor of their choice for any given mood. He glanced into his satchel and saw the miniaturized bottles waiting, including his own, and he wanted a drink of that scotch right now. Maybe this was the sort of party where you got the party favors at the beginning of the festivities, he mused.

“Well done, mate,” Ron said admiringly, “but are we done here?” He edged toward the stairs and gestured to the row of small rooms lining the gigantic open space. “We have one of these party rooms reserved, and Hermione’s waiting for me so we can fetch the cake.”

“What sort of cake?” Draco asked darkly.

“The sort that comes free with the party,” Ron called over his shoulder. “It’s called funfetti!”

“Funfetti?!” Draco shouted after him, but Weasley was already jogging down the stairs, and he had no choice but to follow.

In the party room, a dozen of Harry’s friends stood around, already talking and laughing and eating popcorn out of a giant plastic bowl. Muggle candy was arranged in smaller bowls around it, and the absolute monstrosity of a cake stood on a table off to the side, with candles ready to be lit. There were also giant pizzas on the tables, which sported paper tablecloths — paper tablecloths! Draco thought, closing his eyes, fucking Weasley, there is such a thing as going too far — and plastic silverware and plates with cartoon dragons on them. The Muggle kind. They didn’t even move. Bloody hell.

Draco wanted his scotch, and he wanted it now. He opened his bag, and with a flick of his wand, he sent the charmed flasks flying about the room to find their owners. Everyone caught them, delighted.

“Well done, Malfoy,” Seamus said appreciatively, taking a long pull from his flask. “This is a genius move.”

“Thank you,” Draco acknowledged, secretly agreeing with him and poking at a bowl of gummy worms with his wand. But he only had a few moments to absorb all the horrors of the food before Hermione bustled over, cheerful and industrious as a scout leader.

She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Hi, Draco! This is quite funny, isn’t it? My fifth birthday was at a place just like this.”

“Er, yes, it’s _funny_ ,” Draco forced himself to say, swallowing down a spicier reply. He liked Hermione, these days, quite a lot. This travesty wasn’t her fault. And besides, Ron was motioning Draco to do something with a little plastic knob on the wall to turn off the lights, because Neville was on his way in with Harry.

“So we’re meant to turn on the lights and yell surprise even though he already knows he’s coming to his own party?” Draco whispered to Ron, who ignored him.

“It’s not a surprise! This doesn’t even make any sense,” Draco harrumphed under his breath, still pushing and pulling at the light button. "How do these Muggle lights work?" he muttered. Dean Thomas had appeared by his elbow, punched the light switch, and laughed, “who cares, just go with it, you wanker.”

After the room grew dark, everyone quieted down, and a moment later, Neville was leading a blindfolded Harry into the room.

Dean slapped the lights back on, Neville yanked off the blindfold, and everyone — even Draco himself, he couldn’t help it — shouted “surprise!”

Harry looked astonished for a moment and then his gaze swept around the room, taking in all his friends, and his face split into a gigantic grin.

“Whoa! Wow! Hi, everybody!” He was wearing jeans and trainers, and his shaggy black hair was a mess, and Draco could picture just what he would have looked like at 5 or 6. A forlorn little boy in too-big hand-me-down clothes, all skinny wrists and ankles, lonely and alone. Fuck, he hated those callous Muggles who’d raised Harry, who’d thrown away the childhood he should have had. 

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and watched Harry take in the decorations, the balloon animals and silly party favors. He was smiling Draco’s favorite Harry-smile, the one that started off lopsided and gradually spread over his whole face.

He dashed over to the door and peeked out the small window, then turned to Draco and Ron in astonishment. “What is that?” he asked, pointing. “Who are all these kids running around? Is that... a ball pit?” 

Harry grabbed Draco about the waist. “What did you do?! Where are we?”

“It’s the Wacky—” Draco grimaced and forced himself to grind out the words. “The Wacky-Tacky House of Bounce. Weasley and I wanted to throw you a—”

“The _two of you_ threw this party?!” Impossibly, Harry’s grin grew even wider. He already looked so fucking happy that it was making Draco’s heart hurt.

“Yeah. Both of us,” Ron said, before Draco could set the record straight. He shot Draco a warning look that said, quite clearly, _don’t cock this up._

And he was right: Draco was astonished to see Harry, who rarely cried about anything any more, get entirely choked up. He pressed his lips together and his eyes shone in the fluorescent light. He had to swallow before he could speak. “I can’t believe you both did this together,” he said hoarsely, putting an arm around both Ron’s and Draco’s shoulders too and pulling them close. He planted a kiss on Draco’s temple, gave Ron another hard squeeze, and began to make his way around the room. He hugged everyone in turn — Luna and Neville and Seamus and Dean and George and Hannah and all the rest of them, even Pansy and Blaise.

Harry laughed when he saw the cake, piped with lurid green frosting and topped with a magician pulling a rabbit out of a top hat, which Ron said was the closest thing they’d had to a wizard.

Harry positively chortled when they sang happy birthday to him.

He closed his eyes and looked like he was taking wishing truly seriously, and then blew out all his candles in one breath.

He cackled when everyone’s tongues turned green from the frosting.

He ate gummy worms and popcorn and crisps and chocolate frogs that Ron had smuggled in.

He took long, happy pulls from his flask of pumpkin juice mixed with vodka, and his cheeks turned pink, and he kissed Draco on the mouth three times.

Ron was right: Harry _loved_ this party, and it had barely even begun.

Once they finished the cake, everyone left the private party room and were unleashed on the giant main room, already pleasantly halfway drunk. Harry headed straight for the ball pit, but Draco hung back and wandered around, watching their friends poke about the huge warehouse.

Luna was crouching in the corner, staring fixedly at a small toy, clearly designed for the youngest children, with colorful balls floating up into the air.

“Luna, is that a levitation charm?” Draco hissed. “No magic in here! Put your wand away!”

She turned to him slowly, fixing her wide eyes on his, the picture of innocence. “Oh, hi, Draco — no, it’s not a charm! Look, it’s doing it all on its own!” The balls were balanced on steady streams of blown air. The two of them poked at it for a solid five minutes, covering and uncovering the jets of air with their hands, watching the balls rise and fall, laughing, sipping from their flasks.

Eventually, Draco and Luna wandered over to a small, ridiculous wrestling ring piled with thick blue mats. Pavarti Patil and Susan Bones had donned giant padded suits and were wrestling each other, falling down and rolling around in hysterics. Draco couldn’t help but smile.

He wandered some more, surveying everyone from a distance. He could see Hermione’s dreadlocks bouncing just over the top of some kind of large bridge that she, Ron, Hannah, and Neville were bounding across. Blaise was resting with one arm propped against a wall, long and lean, chatting up a beautiful curvy older mum. George was scaling a gigantic contraption made of nets and mats. Ginny and her new girlfriend were scaling short ropes up a padded climbing wall and flailing around, not being nearly careful enough to hide their flasks. 

Draco — feeling the sixth sense that always pulled him back toward Harry — sidestepped a pack of cavorting preschoolers and wandered into the middle of the room, where Harry was knocking about in a giant pit of foam bricks with Seamus and Dean. They stood on a tall platform with a rope and launched themselves into it, swinging as wide as they could and landing on top of each other, rolling about.

“Oi, fuck off, mate!” Dean shouted gleefully as Harry flopped down on his head, and Draco saw a Muggle mum wearing shorts and a tank top shoot them a nasty look before herding her toddlers away. Draco flipped two fingers behind her back, and he could have sworn that a troll tattoo on the back of her calf flipped him off as well.

“Malfoy, c’mere!” Harry shouted, and Draco knew he was tipsy. He only called him Malfoy when he was tanked up. Harry tried to vault out of the foam pit and tripped over his own feet, flopping halfway over the side. Draco, laughing, helped haul him out.

“Wait, wait, I have to tell you something,” Harry said sloppily, leaning into Draco and catching his wrist in his hand. Draco quirked an eyebrow and leaned over to him. Harry’s breath was hot and sweet on his neck. Draco gave a little shudder as Harry drew closer and closer to say something delicious into his ear.

“I FUCKING LOVE THIS PARTY!” Harry crowed. Draco wrenched away and pretended to be annoyed, but he was smiling. God, Harry just looked so _happy_.

“Thank you, Draco. This is the best birthday I’ve ever, ever, _ever_ had. I love every fucking bit of it. And I adore you and Ron to fucking pieces.”

“I adore you too, you infantile fool,” Draco said, and Harry grabbed his other wrist and walked him backward, pinning his Draco’s hands behind his back, the way he knew full well Draco liked far too much for Harry to do in public.

“You cannot be serious, Potter,” Draco hissed, wriggling himself free.

“Can’t I?” Harry backed Draco up against the wall, smiling wickedly, and reached a hand around to grab his arse.

Draco batted Harry away, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face. “Not now, Potter! This is the absolute last place on earth that I would ever shag you. There are a hundred thousand toddlers running around in full view, not to mention all of our closest, drunkest friends.”

But Draco couldn’t resist the affection written on Harry’s face, the actual joy that he saw sparkling in those emerald eyes. Draco leaned in and kissed him lightly, just a brush over his lips. Harry pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, and Draco tried to resist. It only lasted for a moment; he felt himself, inevitably, melt into Harry, into his solid body and his comforting soapy smell. He pressed up against Harry’s jeans, tangled his hands into Harry’s thick black hair. Draco could taste the pumpkin juice on his lips, and then Harry’s tongue was meeting his and his mouth was so perfectly sweet and warm and familiar. Draco was suddenly a bit desperate for him, for more and more, and he pressed the whole length of his—

“Get a room, you two!” Pansy screeched as she galloped by, whacking Harry on the arse as she went. “Snog later! Now, it’s time for the bouncy castle!”

“There’s a bouncy castle?!” Harry screeched back and peeled himself off of Draco, who had to fight the urge to cling to him. But Harry was already off, dragging a reluctant Draco behind him by the elbow. “I looooove you, Malfoy,” Harry told him in a singsong voice.

“And I love you, Potter,” Draco replied, smiling. “I’d do anything for you and you know it, so don’t take advantage.”

“Oh, I _fully_ plan to take advantage of you later,” Harry smirked. “But for now... we bounce!”


End file.
